Born to Serve

There was a stillness in the air of the manor, a quiet that was almost overwhelming. Tiefle could not remember a time when she was surrounded by so much silence. At the Academy, there was always noise; the lessons from instructors, the bustle of the kitchens, the flurry of movement in classes, or even the breath of a hundred others asleep in the barrack longhouses. In contrast, the manor was still and silent, an unusual absence of activity that came with the unfamiliar solitude. Not even the house itself hummed with any kind of noise. The floors were made too precisely to creak, and even the atmospheric systems managed the house's cool interior without so much as a whisper from the invisible vents. In the overbearing silence, Tiefle's own breaths seemed almost deafening.

It seemed like she had been waiting for hours, but Tiefle knew it could not have been more than twenty minutes. Despite the long delay, excitement still radiated through her body, perhaps only compounded by being left in the silence with nothing but her thoughts. Acquisition was every Jejerra's dream, the day they worked for since birth. When she had been led from the Choosing Plaza, it had taken every ounce of her years of training not to beam with happiness and burst into tears of joy. Every Jejerra lived in constant fear during their training of Reclamation, of being unchosen and destined to a life of scientific experimentation or armed service.

Even the most unworthy or behaviorally degenerate Jejerras would spend their lives serving, but it was not the wish of any to be Reclaimed. When the voice of her new Master had confirmed his purchase of her, Tiefle had felt a wave of relief and euphoria rush through her that had nearly crumpled her to the floor. She had barely had the presence of mind to follow him out of the Academy through processing, and by the time they had reached the manor, she had been grateful to be left kneeling alone in the center of the study as it had given her time to quell her spinning emotions. Even still, colors roared over her vision, despite the time she had to center herself.

Unlike humans, Jejerras emotions were evident in their eyes. The color of the iris melted from green to red to cobalt to pink depending on their feelings, and the effect tinged their view of the world in hues of raw emotion. Because of this, wards were trained to control, but not repress their feelings. A Master's commands were not only followed, but embraced. Anyone could follow an order without interest, grey eyed and uninvested. A Jejerra who lit up at their Master's voice, who lived to please and drew joy and purpose in service; that was what made an ideal ward. For Tiefle, the inside of the manor had cascaded non stop from the deep pink of optimistic interest to the light yellow of anxious nervousness to the pastel purple of fearful uncertainty to every thought in between.

The Master who had Acquisitioned her, a broad man named Jerome Kingston, had said little aside from his queries of her training. Tiefle had responded, voice light and quivering compared to his, about her qualifications and schooling. After that, he had led her to a magcar then to here, his salt sprinkled black hair and square jawed build making her feel both small and fragile compared to his imposing presence. He had left her here, awaiting her next instruction, and she was not sure if she wished his return sooner or later.

Her training had prepared her to respond obediently to any request, take initiative when appropriate, or even make herself useful and productive in the absence of specific instruction. However, her new Master had provided her with no other direction other than to kneel and remain, nor had he given any conversation or hint as to what her specific duties were to be. Her training had been the traditional courses for a Jejerra: household duties, culinary preparation, business management, pleasure services, and even protection security skills. Masters procured wards for countless services, and Tiefle was trained for anything from organizing her Master's affairs to providing her body for his guests' desires. None of those possibilities gave her unease, but the mystery of her future accosted her anxious mind with uncertainty.

As Tiefle's thoughts careened down a particularly uncomfortable possibility, the sounds of steps on the rigid wood floor shook her back to reality. Master Kingston strode inside with a tablet in hand, then nodded to her in recognition. Just behind him glided another Jejerra. She was older than Tiefle, probably closer to Master Kingston's own age, though she still stepped with the liquid grace of youth. Like Tiefle, she bore the hallmark features of a Jejerra. They were not far different from humans, but their species most often held sharper features and feline angles to their ears and faces compared to the rounded symmetry of humans. Selective breeding over the generations had provided them with a less sylvan appearance compared to their ancestors, but a Jejerra still had a catlike grace and angled appearance, as well as the soft purr at the edge of the voice from the slight genetic differences in their vocal cords. As the elder woman stepped into the study, Tiefle rose her eyes to meet hers. A flash of emerald curiosity sparked in the woman's eyes, prodding a blush and tinge of crimson mixing with the rushing colors in Tiefle's vision.

"This is Clara," Kingston said, drawing Tiefle's gaze with his commanding tone. He spoke firmly, but not with any gruffness or malice. "She will be orienting you to your quarters and duties."

Clara bowed her head, a motion that Tiefle mirrored from her kneeling position.

Kingston continued to work on the tablet in hand, settling into the chair behind the desk. Clara stepped lithely around Tiefle, raising her head to speak, "I would inspect your new ward, Sir."

Kingston nodded dismissively without looking up, and Clara dipped her head gently in reply. Without hesitation, Tiefle shrugged the simple Academy garment from her shoulders, loosing her auburn curls to dance over her shoulders. Every ward wore simple white tunics for the Choosing. Each was backless, revealing the string of tattoos that ran from the base of the skull down their back. The markings were always a sequence of elegant, geometric shapes, all representing various qualifications gained during their upbringing. Clara stepped slowly around Tiefle who now knelt naked in the middle of the study. Under the seasoned scrutiny, Tiefle sat as straight as possible, presenting herself proudly. Clara looked her over throughly, even drew Tiefle's chin up to tilt her head left and right as if to inspect her jawline.

While she did, the younger girl noticed the tattoos that adorned Clara as well. The woman wore a sleek, backless white dress, baring her markings like any other Jejerra. However, the tattoo extended far below the opening of the outfit, and Tiefle could see the patterns continue down the back of her legs and down her arms. Her eyes opened in awe as she saw the symbols for high tier mathematics, specialized culinary skills, artistic Shibari, advanced tai chi, biological chemistry, and dozens she could not even recognize. Some of the non-human instructors at the Academy had been emblazoned with extensive tattoos, but Tiefle had never seen someone so experienced in such a variety of subjects.

Clara seemed to notice Tiefle's gaze, but did not respond to it outside of an amused smirk. Nodding approvingly, she turned on her heel toward Master Kingston and smiled, "She is an excellent choice, Sir."

He nodded, then looked up from his tablet. Still kneeling naked on the floor, Tiefle made sure to keep her posture pristine for his inspection as well. Master Kingston leaned forward on his desk, "You may cloth yourself, Tiefle."

"As you wish, Sir," She said, mirroring the honorific Clara had used as she pulled the simple covering back on. Kingston and Clara shared a quick glance, and Tiefle immediately wondered if she had already made a mistake, a shimmer of trepidation coloring her vision.

He cleared his throat, "You may refer to me as 'Master Kingston', or 'Master' as I am the head of the household." He seemed to see the dismay in her eyes at the misstep, and he held up a hand with a slight smile, easing her tension before continuing, "Clara refers to me as 'Sir' because she is specifically under my direction."

Tiefle took a moment to understand the implication, unable to hide the twinge of confusion that created her brow.

Kingston noticed, "You have a question?"

"Yes, Master Kingston," she replied, transitioning to the new title for him.

"Go ahead," he replied, "and from here on, feel free to ask any question at any time, so long as the timing and context is appropriate."

"Thank you Master Kingston," Tiefle said, then paused as she thought about how to word her curiosity respectively. After taking a breath, she finally responded, "If I am not to serve you, may I ask what my duties will be?" After a short breath, she quickly added, "so I may be of service to the best of my ability, Master."

He seemed to suddenly grow uneasy, glancing to Clara for help. The motion was small and it instantaneously vanished, but Tiefle's keen eyes caught it. The look was so unlike the image he had presented thus far, the uncharacteristic unease coming from a personality that she could only think to compare to the immovable steadfastness of the Manor around them.

Clara spoke, her smooth tone almost enough to cover the moment of awkwardness if not for the fact that it was a Jejerra effectively speaking out of turn, unprompted, "You will serve the young Master Leomund."

Master Kingston cleared his throat and nodded, "My son. You will be his first ward."

Tiefle was taken aback that Clara had spoken so presumptuously, but he had seemed to appreciate the comment, so Tiefle shook it from her mind. She smiled and dipped her head in thanks, "as you wish, Master."

Steps sounded behind her in the hallway, and the other two turned to look at the new arrival. Master Kingston rose and gestured, "Ah, speaking of which. This is he. Leomund, meet your new ward, Tiefle." With a practiced ease, she twisted around on her knees, dipping her head in introductory presentation before lifting her eyes to see her new owner.

Suddenly, the colors dancing around her vision solidified into crisp clarity. When Master Kingston had told her that she would be his son's first ward, Tiefle had imagined caring for a small child. Instead, a rather crisply dressed young man came into the room. Like his father, he held himself in a way that radiated authority. However, much of the similarity seemed to end there. Leomund was lean and tall, the fitted suit accenting his body well. Instead of a jacket, he only wore a vest over a well pressed dress shirt. His eyes were slate grey that seemed pale compared to his deep black hair trimmed into short waves that framed his serious face.

He was incredibly handsome, and Tiefle's mind roared with possibility in his presence. All the uncertainty and mystery vanished at the sight of him. This would be her Master. She would serve and love and protect and devote herself to him. No longer did she wonder about her future, because he was standing before her in the flesh. Her emotions still roared at the edges of her mind, but her vision of him remained crisp and vibrant, as if his very presence was an anchor. Master Kingston held himself with a tremendous amount of authority, but Tiefle fell headlong into the fantasy of actually serving Leomund, of being the first he owned. The possibilities filled her with euphoria.

Tiefle smiled, "It is a pleasure and honor to meet you, Sir. I hope I may serve you well."

There was a long pause after she spoke, and Leomund set his jaw as his marble colored eyes locked with his father's. When he spoke, his tone had all the gravitas of his father's, but was filled with frustration and anger, "What the hell is this?"

All the certainty and joy left Tiefle's body in a rush that made her stomach drop. Instantly, her vision blanched into shades of grey as the vibrant color washed away. She immediately buried her head in the rug she had been kneeling on, palms pressed flat against the floor so hard that she was surprised they didn't crack the wood beneath. Silent tears streaked down her cheeks as panic welled in her chest. Around her, she could hear Master Kingston arguing with his son, his deep growling tone growing more irritated as Leomund yelled over him. She tried to make out the words, tried to understand what she had done wrong but the ringing in her ears drowned out everything as her body began to shake with anxiety.

Suddenly, the yelling stopped as Clara cleared her throat. The two men seemed to freeze in place as she spoke, "Young Master Leomund. Perhaps I should show your ward to her new quarters while the Masters discuss." Her words were polite, yet the way she enunciated each word slowly and methodically made her tone seem like it dripped with a measured venom. The audacity of her elder was so intense that Tiefle felt her anxiety bury itself, her training surging to the surface despite the tension in the room. Before either of the men could protest, a gentle hand took her by the side and lifted her from the carpet, leading her from the room. Keeping her head down to hide her tear stained face, Tiefle allowed Clara to walk her through the Manor.

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The tea Clara had made was bracing, but not unpleasantly. Tiefle sipped it slowly, feeling the brew settle her nerves and stomach as Clara sat patiently across the small table. When she had finally calmed herself enough to breath normally again, she cleaned her face with a small towelette and met the elder Jejerra's eyes. She expected to see disdain for the display of weakness or irritation about her behavior, but Clara simply looked at her with a soft smile.

Tiefle lowered her eyes, taking a breath to steady herself before desperate words began to spill from her, "I am sorry I am not good enough to impress Sir Leomund. I am trained in other services. I can help unseen around the house or as skilled labor. I'm also proficient in pleasurecraft if they wish for supplementary income. If I may be allowed to offset their poor investment in my purchase so that I may atone for-"

Clara simply held up a hand, stopping Tiefle before she could babble any longer. She stopped, and the pair sat in silence for a long moment and Clara looked at the tea cups, clearly measuring her words before speaking. Finally, she replied, "The situation is... complicated. It is not my place to speak on the matter, but trust when I say that the fault was not with you." She took another long pause, sipping her tea before continuing, "Leomund has been resistant to Acquisition. I'm sure you noticed he is quite old to not yet have a ward." Tiefle nodded, and Clara carried on, "His father and he have come to many a verbal blow about it, but Sir insisted, of which I naturally agreed."

Tiefle took a deep breath, "Does he have a dissuasion to our kind?" She remembered in her training that there were many different mentalities humans had to the lesser race. Some treated them as valued tools and commodities, others as purely discardable. Sometimes, Jejerras were used as an outlet for anger or for violent perversions. It was frowned upon to abuse your wards, but only in the sense that it was wasteful, and there were no actual laws against it so long as public decency was upheld.

Clara shook her head knowingly, "No, no. Nothing like that. Master Kingston and young Master Leomund have never been unnecessary to their property." She set her tea back on the table and brushed her dress, "The young Master has his own reasons. He may or may not tell you in time, that is his prerogative as a Master as it is ours to obey."

Tiefle straightened as Clara spoke, her words sounding very reminiscent of the years of training. Suddenly everything fell right into place. Clara's words had been encouraging, the sage advice reassuring her that she had not done anything to upset her new owners. All she could do was serve and serve well. If Tiefle did that, then even if they decided to dispose of her, she would go knowing she did all that could be expected.

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The rest of the afternoon, Clara led Tiefle around the Manor, showing her the kitchens, living spaces, and general grounds. She learned what the Masters' routines were, and what would be expected of her day to day. Lastly, she was shown to her room, where Clara left her alone to acquaint herself.

Tiefle explored the bedchamber in awe, unable to fathom the opulence provided to her. To room was large but simple, furnished with a large bed covered in plain sheets. Across the room was a dark oak vanity beside a walk-in closet. Inside was a variety of clothes for all occasions, skillfully made with the traditional backless or sheer panel to display the Jejerran Tattoo Brands. Lining the shelf above the clothing racks were rows of shoes ranging from heels to boots to flats.

"I hope this works for you," a voice said from behind. Tiefle almost jumped, but managed to keep her composure as she turned to Leomund. He stood in the doorway awkwardly, as if entering was forbidden.

Tiefle bowed in greeting then raised her eyes, "This is more than adequate, Sir. A room to myself seems unnecessary though. I do not wish to impose on such a scale. I can bed with the other Jejerran staff if I need to or with you if you would prefer."

Leomund seemed to twitch at the last statement, then shook his head quickly, "No, this is fine. You should have your own space."

Tiefle looked at him confused, "Sir?"

He glanced back, unsure of her question, "Yes?"

Tiefle wrinkled her brow, "Is there another duty you would like me to perform? Something that would require the room? I had not asked Clara of that specifically. I apologize."

"Oh," he said, flustered, "No, nothing like that. I just figured you would like a room to yourself."

Tiefle was still confused, but smiled, "It is very generous, Sir. Thank you." She looked about the simple space with a warm smile, "A dozen of my bunk mates could fit in here with me and still have room to spare. I would love to see their faces if they knew I had this much just to myself."

"You didn't have your own rooms at the Academy?" Leomund asked, nervously picking at his fingernails.

Tiefle giggled, "Oh no! Jejerra are raised in longhouse barracks." She gestured with her hands to indicate the long narrow structure, "they are like long hallways with washrooms every so often. We sleep like that, hundreds per longhouse all cuddled together and warm. It's quite pleasant."

He frowned, "It sounds crowded..."

Tiefle smiled, "Oh, very."

He nodded slowly, then an awkward pause formed between them. Tiefle just remained quiet and patient while Leomund seemed to grow more fidgety and anxious.

Finally, he cleared his throat, "Look. I'm sorry about earlier..."

Tiefle grew pale and she lowered her gaze to the floor and dropped to her knees, "Please, Sir. There is nothing to apologize for. My inadequacy is not your fault." She took a deep breath, "I will serve to the best of my ability to earn your enjoyment, I promise."

Leomund opened his mouth to interrupt, but the fervor in her words seemed to take him aback. With a bite of his lip, he nodded and slid his hands into his pockets, "Of course. Well, then... dinner is in a couple of hours. I'll leave you to settle in until then." With that, he turned on his heel and left.

Tiefle let out a sigh of hope, feeling much more confident than she had been since her arrival. None of this was how she had expected it, but her training was thorough, and her resolve was solid once more. She would be the best ward any Master could ask for...